Word: Sidh

 

sídh

or shee

[ shee ]

 noun, plural sídhe [shee]. Irish Folklore.

1. a mound or hill in which fairies live.

2. a fairy.

3.sídhe, the race of fairies.

  ***************************

               Two people walked up onto the hill. One was a man in his 30s, the other a boy not even ten. The man carried a large cooler at his side, while the boy awkwardly carried a smaller one. The two of them got to the top of the hill and the man set his load down, taking a moment to look at the field, one of the few places in Ireland that had not seen the touch of industrialization. His boy stood by his father’s side, looking at the rolling grass, but found little of interest in it.

               The man placed a hand on his son’s head, then got to work, setting out a blanket to lay on and food for their picnic. The boy watched eagerly at the array of food, until the man did something odd. He took two wooden bowls, one was filled with honey, and the other his poured a bit of cream into. Then he set them aside, off the blanket.

               “Dad? What’re those for?”

               “Those are gifts, son. Gifts for our hosts.”

               The boy scrunched his nose and looked around again. There was nobody around, and certainly no buildings. He looked up at his father as the man finished unloading the food.

               “Son, do ya know what kind of hill we’re on?” The man asked, instead of answering the boy’s unspoken question. The boy shook his head. “This is a very special place. The kind of place that’s getting’ rarer and rarer these days. This is a place where fairies live.”

               The boy’s eyes opened wide and he sucked in a long breath. “Fairies? Really?”

               “Oh, aye. They live all around here. And since we’re trespassen’ on their land, it’s only polite to leave somethin’ for ‘em. To show we don’t mean any harm.”

               “Will the fairies be eatin’ with us then?”

               “No, son, they won’t. They’ll come out when we’re done and gone. They don’t much like bein’ seen by us men. So, they’ll stay hidden wherever it is fairies hide until they know we can’t see ‘em.”

               “Have you ever seen one?”

               “No, of course not. I just told you they don’t like to be seen.” The man said like a slight laugh. “But I know they’re there. Come up here enough and you learn to feel ‘em. Tell they’re around, even if you don’t know where they are. Now come on, let’s eat up. Anything you don’t eat, we can leave as more gifts. If not for the fairies, then the other animals that call this place home.”

               The two sat and ate. The father told his son the tales of the fae, and the boy eagerly listened, young eyes shining with joy with each story his father told him. Sometimes the man would pause and close his eyes, taking a deep breath. He said that was when a fairy was watching closely, although remained hidden.

               When they were done, they packed up everything they could. The man set out a small bolt of cloth and placed a small pile of leftovers on it. The two then left the hill with a much lighter load. When they were out of sight, a tiny head, smaller than the boy’s hand, popped out of the grass. The figure carefully watched the direction the two humans had left. When the being was sure he was alone, he bowed slightly in the father’s direction. Then he sat and began to eat the offerings. It was good to know that humans had not completely abandoned the fairies. 

**********************************

Remember, if you suspect there's fairies about, treat them nicely. For one thing, it's just the polite thing to do. For a second, fairies are not always friendly creatures, so it's best to stay on their good side whenever possible. 

Word: Epicurean

 

epicurean

[ ep-i-kyoo-ree-uhn, -kyoor-ee- ]

Primary meanings of epicurean

adjective

1. fond of or adapted to luxury or indulgence in sensual pleasures; having luxurious tastes or habits, especially in eating and drinking.

2. fit for an epicure: epicurean delicacies.

(initial capital letter) of, relating to, or characteristic of Epicurus or Epicureanism.

noun

3. an epicure.

4. (initial capital letter) a disciple of Epicurus.

***************************

               Richard was used to the finer things in life. His family’s small getaway house was larger than most people’s primary residences. He always owned the latest and greatest of whatever he wanted. He ate at the finest restaurants in the world. Even at home, he ate only the finest of meals, due to his family’s head chef having a Micheline Star. He knew good things in life. And what he was looking at was not it.

               The plate in front of him was covered with something that could loosely be called food. It was some kind of chunked meat in a sauce that had probably come from a jar. There was a pile of something that could be identified as vegetables, although with how limp and soggy everything was, it was hard to tell what kind. Just about the only thing he could identify with some certainty was the pile of mashed potatoes. And eve those had odd dark flakes and lumps in them.

               He looked at the family around him. They belonged to his girlfriend, Lisa. She was a beautiful girl, who looked like she came from a standard of living closer to his. Now, seeing her laugh with people who probably made less than 50 grand a year, it was obvious that he had been mistaken. At least they seemed…nice.

               They occasionally asked him questions, and he answered them as politely as he could. Even Lisa’s father seemed to generally accept him, even though he was dating the man’s daughter. But they were barely middle class at best. The tableware was cheap plastic, the décor had probably came from many garage sales, and they wore outfits that looked like they came from a bin.

               “Hey, Rich.” Lisa said, leaning close and talking softly. “You should eat before it gets cold.”

               “Oh, uh, right. Sure. I’ll just take a bite and…”

               “Oh don’t be like that. I know it doesn’t look like what you’re used to, but it’s good, I promise. Besides, Mom worked hard on it, so not eating it would upset her.”

               Richard made a non-committal grunt. The last thing he wanted was to upset Lisa’s parents. She might come from a lower class, but he did like her. So, he sucked it up, speared a chunk of meat and, after only a moment’s hesitation, put it in his mouth.

               He froze, fork still in his mouth, morsel of food resting on his tongue. It was indeed very good. Much better than it looked. But that was not what caused his hesitation. In terms of pure taste, he had had better. But there was something about this food. A quality that nothing else he had ever eaten had possessed. Something he could not quite put into words. But whatever it was added a depth to the meal. It made the flavors stand out more, making it seem far better than it was. And considering that it was worthy of a respectable restaurant, that meant something.

               He slowly chewed and swallowed before tasting the potatoes and vegetables. They possessed the same quality and depth of flavor that the meat had. Richard was momentarily lost in the food, letting the conversation wash over him. And then something happened. He did not know when, but he found himself laughing with the others. He found himself enjoying their company much more than he had. It was like the food had unlocked a door he had not even known existed.

               And in that moment, the finer things in life did not seem so fine anymore.

*********************************

Good food just makes things better, doesn't it? Always be sure to enjoy your meals, even if they aren't the best in the world.

Word: Cantillate

 

cantillate

[ kan-tl-eyt ]

verb (used with object), can·til·lat·ed, can·til·lat·ing.

to chant; intone.

****************************

               When Sarah woke up, there were many strange things she noticed. She was on a hard slab instead of a nice, soft bed. The air was cold and damp instead of warm, the smell of mold filled the air when it should have been house plants and air freshener. When she opened her eyes, her worst fears had been confirmed. She was not in her room.

               Well, she supposed that was no surprise, considering the night she had had. She did not remember too much, but she knew she should be in a bedroom, not some kind of dungeon. There was a light dangling from the ceiling, so at least she was in a place with power. That was something. Not much, but something. And she was dressed, which was more of a comfort than she would have thought. As was the suspicious lack of hangover.

               And so, Sarah did the only thing she could reasonably be expected to do. She panicked. She shook and trembled and hyperventilated. There was a lot of screaming as well, which lead to nothing. But, it seemed like the right thing to do. She had no idea how long she spent having a panic attack, but she eventually wound down, simply because she ran out of energy to continue panicking. But now, it was time to actually try something productive.

               A quick look around the room told her next to nothing. She was in a dimly lit stone room that was smaller than her old college dorm room. The bed was a cold metal slab, and there were no windows. The only door was made of wood, and she assumed it was locked. But, she still had to try, just in case. Sure enough, the door was locked. It did lead to another discovery though. It was a very old door in an environment that was not good for wood.

               A few solid tugs was enough to make pieces of the door break off. Sarah discarded the rotting wood and shoved, breaking the now weakened door. Her situation had not improved much. Instead of being in a dimly lit cell, she was in a dimly lit hallway. There were no guards at least, but there were a lot of other doors, most of which were either open or broken. There was little reason to search those, so she chose a direction and started walking.

               Several minutes after she started, she heard something. Voices coming from farther down the hall. There were several of them, and they spoke in a low, rhythmic chant. Some kind of religious ceremony maybe? She mentally cursed. Had she been taken by some kind of demon worshipers? This seemed like the kind of place they would hang out. Not that she knew a lot about demon worshippers or anything.

               As she went, the voices slowly grew louder. And the more she listened, the more Sarah came to realize something. The voices were wrong. The chanting was wrong on a level she could not quite explain. They spoke in a language she did not recognize, but there was an unsettling wrongness to them. Like they were not actually speaking words, but something that was somehow the opposite of words. They made her stomach churn and her hands shake.

               She was torn. Part of her wanted to run the other way. Get away from whatever was happening and be done with it. But a part of her felt that was the wrong course of action. She had no idea where she was, and would need to find people to tell her that piece of important information. And the only place she knew there were people was forward. She would have to be careful though. Be sneaky and not get caught until she could get the drop on one of them and make him tell her where she was.

               It was a stupid plan. She knew that right away. But it was also the only plan she had. There was no guarantee the hallway behind her lead anywhere. Or it could lead to people not currently engaged in speaking some kind of nightmare chant to do…something. So, she did the dumb thing and kept going.

               When she got to the end of the hall, the words made her skin crawl. She almost thought that was more literal that she would have liked, but she swallowed that feeling. Instead, she stood before a large set of double door. These were metal, and in much better shape than the one to her cell. She took a last look behind her and swallowed a lump in her throat. It was time to either run, or do something.

               She placed her hand on the door and opted to do something. She just had no idea what.

********************************

Ah hah! A cliffhanger! Muahahah I am evil and...stuff. What? No, of course I know where the story is going. There's no way I'd just end it so I didn't have to make anything up. That's the farthest thing from my mind.